In The End
by the ticking clock
Summary: He doesn't believe in fairytales anymore.


Once upon a time, there was mad man who stole a TARDIS and chased the stars.

He was so very young, then. Young and reckless and burning with something like curiosity and anger and breathless joy. For years they raced across the galaxy, saving lives, ending lives, burning up suns and laughing while monsters crumbled.

He was trying to be old and important but he was still very much a boy, and he never wanted to stop running.

But all things must come to an end.

There were whispers across the fabric of time. Whispers of war and pain and Gallifrey, and he knew that he had to go home.

She had fought him, his wonderful, magical blue box. His TARDIS. She'd screeched and turned off all the lights, and sent them back in time and caused earthquakes until he'd finally shouted at her that, couldn't she see, he had no choice. They had no choice.

So they go.

And the reckless boy killed and burned and became something much older than a man.

They wandered the universe, lost and drifting and haunted.

Sometimes, she would take them to a planet that needed saving, and he would find something resembling pride. A reminder of why he chose the name he did, all those years ago.

But the reminders were fleeting, and few, and he spent a long time curled up in darkness while his TARDIS spun through atmospheres and sang lullabies in his mind.

Eventually, She had enough of it. She landed without him asking her too, on a planet of apes that he'd found several friends' on before. She didn't use words with him, but her forceful wheeze as they landed was a clear message, _Get out. Do good. I'm tired of this. _

So he did. He stole an old leather jacket from one of the TARDIS's many wardrobes and put it on. He stepped out onto the tiny little green world and took it all in.

He met a shop girl named Rose who was just so wonderful. She looked at him, brave and smart and terrified, and driven by some impulse he grabbed her hand and whispered, "run."

That was when it all really began again.

* * *

><p>They saved the world together.<p>

Rose watched him change and grow through almost two whole faces. She showed him that there was still a small spark of curiosity and fire buried in there somewhere. They fight and they laugh and they run, run, run. Always running. Never stopping. Saving lives and Righting wrongs.

But all things must come to an end.

So they said goodbye, and he made new friends. New loves. Martha, Donna, Jack. All ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. They all challenged him and loved him and made him better.

Then, the Ponds.

Amelia, with her name from a fairytale and her spicy temper that kept him on his toes. Rory, cautious and steady and so very brave.

They run with him for a long time.

They saw the youth start to unravel and the old man shine through the pores of a young body. They saw his darkness and his fury and they hold him through the long hours of the night when everything hurts to much and all he can remember is silver leaf trees.

But he was the man who changed. The man who forgets.

So he let them go to.

None of them can stay with him forever.

His Impossible Girl came next.

A mystery that horrified and intrigued him, but in the end turned out to be the simplest thing in the universe: a selfless girl saving him.

So very, very simple.

He loved her. He loved her in the same way he used to love his granddaughter. He held her in his arms all the times she died, and he held her when she was alive and laughing and breathing and scolding him for doing something incredibly stupid.

In many ways, she was his moral compass. She steered him when he was doing some very wrong. She nudged him towards doing something good.

He was not a hero. Far from it. In some stories, he was a villain. Killer of the Timelords. Destroyer of Worlds.

His story reads something like a fairytale.

He knows that she would like to believe its is. Amy believed it, for a long time. For years. She learned, quickly, that his world is much, much darker than that.

Clara has been with him for a long time now. Now he's older than he's ever been, and she's young. She laughs and takes his hand and begs him to take her somewhere new and exciting. They go to dangerous places. Horrible places. Places where a few faces ago, he would never have taken his companion.

But he is different now.

Clara still thinks he's a hero. That his story is good and true, and honest, despite its flaws.

He knows the truth.

A very long time ago, a mad man stole a TARDIS and chased the stars. He laughed. He killed. He grew up.

He doesn't believe in fairytales anymore.


End file.
